


Blind Faith

by JamieJJP (TriggerJones)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Dean, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating for later chapters, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriggerJones/pseuds/JamieJJP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses his sight on a hunt with his father, and it puts his relationship with his brother to the test, Dean becoming almost entirely dependent on Sam. Feelings come to a head when Sam gets his Stanford acceptance letter and he has to leave his brother behind</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Faith

> _I am a man with a heavy heart_

 

Sam was fourteen when it happened.

He got home from school to find a message from his dad saying that he’d taken Dean to hospital.

Home being the shitty motel of the week, and the message being a quickly scrawled note on the back of a receipt.

Sam’s heart was in his throat as he read and reread his father’s distinctive script.

Why would they have to go to hospital?

Whenever they’d got busted on a hunt before, they’d fix each other up.

Sam had stitched his brothers’ wounds more times than any fourteen year old high school student should have.

They _never_ went to hospital. Too many questions, not enough health insurance.

As soon as he saw the note, he knew that something terrible had happened.

Sam paced the motel room, chewing on a hang nail, unable to relax knowing that something had happened to his brother and he couldn’t do anything about it.

* * *

Ten minutes later he was stealing a bike from outside another motel room and racing to the nearest hospital.

How was he supposed to just wait around, not knowing how serious the situation was?

He was assuming the worst, and rightly so, he thought.

It’s gotta be life or death if they’ve gone to _hospital_.

He rested the stolen bike against a wall and raced into the emergency department, straight up to the desk despite the glares from other people waiting in line.

“Young man, there is a line,” the woman at the desk said, sternly.

He nodded, tears in his eyes from exhaustion and worry, “I know, I’m sorry, my brother-”

Her face softened at his shaking voice, sympathy for the petrified boy in front of her outweighing her annoyance, “Okay, sweetheart, we’ll find him. What’s his name?”

“Dean Wi- uh, Smith,” he corrected, “Dean Smith, common name I know, birthday January tw-”

“Twenty-fourth?” she finished, and he nodded, relieved that he’d picked the right false surname.

“Where is he? Can I see him?”

Her face worried him as it faltered, before putting on a false smile.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but Sam knew how to read people like he knew how to read picture books.

“He’s, uh,” she smiled up at him, “Your father’s in the family room. I can get someone to take you to him?”

Sam nodded, feeling his heart rate pick up again.

Something wasn’t right.

* * *

“Dean?” he whispered, sniffing slightly at the sight of his brother lying in the hospital bed.

Dean stirred, moving his head on the pillow to face Sam.

“Sammy,” he smiled, “You came to see me.”

Sam scoffed slightly, “Like I’d be anywhere else.”

Dean’s smile grew wider as his eyes squinted open.

His irises remained unfocused and the smile fell from his face instantly.

“Sammy?” he asked panicked, his hand reaching towards his brother.

Sam took it, shooting a worried look at his father, “Dean? I’m here.”

“I- I-” Dean’s eyes were moving frantically but not focusing on anything, “Why- why can’t I see?”

John walked closer to the bed, sending what was supposed to be a reassuring smile to his youngest son.

“Dean,” he spoke carefully, and Dean’s face turned in the direction of his voice, “Son, you got… you got hit- Do you remember what happened?”

Dean nodded, his fingers crushing Sam’s hand as if he was holding on for dear life, “We were hunting. A witch?”

“That's right,” John confirmed, grateful that the room was empty save for the three of them, “And she… God, son, I tried to get her before she did anything.”

Sam could see that his father was close to tears.

He’d never seen John break down before. He was always strong and sharp, barking orders and trying to keep them safe - usually at the expense of fatherly emotion.

Sam had never seen his father show his feelings like this- never seen him show how much he really cared.

“Dad?” Dean asked, worry in his voice, “We can- she can fix it, right?”

Tears finally fell down John’s cheeks, and Sam’s whole body began to shake, realising that the answer wasn’t going to be an affirmative.

“I’m so- _so_ sorry,” John shook his head, “Dean, she- she’s dead. She can’t give your sight back.”

A stomach wrenching sob escaped Dean’s throat as his eyes began to spill hot tears on his cheeks.

Sam looked up at his father, his own tears clouding his vision.

“Some- someone else can?” Sam said, the intonation rising as a question, “Another witch? There’s gotta-”

John shook his head, blinking back tears, “I’m so sorry.”

John ran a strong hand over his face before turning to leave the room, not wanting to show weakness in front of his sons.

Dean’s body was shaking as he curled in on himself, his eyes scrunching shut against the internal pain he was suffering.

Sam reached out for him, trying to make everything okay, but his brother pushed him away.

“Sammy,” he breathed, sniffing, “Please, just, don’t touch me.”

“Dean?” he questioned, wiping the tears from his cheeks before reaching out again.

“Don’t!” Dean shouted, breaking down into a sob again.

Sam ran from the room, past his father and out of the hospital.

He was breathing way harder than he should be for the short distance he had ran.

His heart was pounding double time and his eyes were streaming hot, salty tears down his cheeks and over his lips.

He wanted to fix it. He wanted everything to be okay. But he didn’t have _half_ the experience that John had. If his father said there was no hope, how the hell was he supposed to do anything? How was he supposed to help when Dean didn’t even want him around?

He couldn’t fix this with a few stitches, or a butterfly bandage. He couldn’t put together a makeshift arm brace to fix this break.

Dean had lost his sight, and there was nothing he could do to make it better.

The thought made him feel sick.

John found him dry-heaving outside the hospital, crouched down next to the bike he stole.

His father didn’t speak, rather wrapping his arms around him and pulling his youngest to his feet.

Sam sobbed against his father’s chest, his inhibitions no longer in play as he broke down in front of the man he tried so hard to come across as fearless around.

John held his son, trying his hardest not to cry again and failing.

His eldest son was blind - probably permanently - and it was all down to him.

Trying to protect his boys was putting them in danger.

Something was gonna have to change.


End file.
